


Go, Take Off a Load (Letting Your Wings Unfold)

by stardustedknuckles



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Pre-Relationship, contains mild spoilers for ep 110, mentions of mind control, mild nudity, set after episode 110, tw obann mentions, you know the drill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26571235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustedknuckles/pseuds/stardustedknuckles
Summary: Yasha and Beau discuss Caleb on the way to a nice bath, and the talk about fault and manipulation turns to Yasha talking more about the effects of Obann -- specifically with regards to the breastplate Yasha still wears.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett & Yasha, Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Comments: 19
Kudos: 228





	Go, Take Off a Load (Letting Your Wings Unfold)

**Author's Note:**

> For Tiamat_ZX, who requested a fic centered around Beau helping Yasha with the breastplate. I have a lot of feelings about that, but here's a little bit of them.

"You don’t think he did it?" Yasha opened the door to the bathing quarters and followed Beau inside. It was warm and pleasantly steamy, a promise of what waited in the next room with the large, hot bath.

Beau plopped down on one of the wooden benches and got to work on her boots. "I think it stinks as plans go. What, just leave someone in an asylum to rot for 11 years and decide one day to let them go? He talked about 'when Caleb was ready' but like. He wasn't getting stronger in there. He wasn't training for anything. He was like...in stasis." She flexed her toes and moved to the next.

"You think someone else helped him then?" Yasha's deft fingers pulled the laces of her own boots through the eyelets, loosening them gently all the way down her calf.

"Yeah. I do. And I think Trent managed to get just enough information to spin it to his benefit. That fucker loves to play with people's heads." She pulled off her breastband and rolled her shoulders contentedly, pausing when she saw Yasha. "Do you need help with that?"

Yasha was fingering the straps of her breastplate thoughtfully with one hand, but not pulling them off yet. She opened her mouth, closed it again. "I am just thinking," she said.

"About Obann?" Yasha's expression told her she'd guessed correctly. Perhaps she should have left her top on a little longer.

"All of this has brought that closer to the surface, yes. What you said about more than one way to control a person…"

"Why do you still wear it, Yash?" She held her breath, hoping to every god she could think of that she had chosen her moment correctly.

Yasha's fingers stroked the ridging near her shoulders, but her eyes were far away. "It is difficult, when someone has been inside your head, to know how much of what you ever felt or did for them was your own."

"None of it," Beau said flatly. "You hated him."

"When I was free of him, yes," she agreed. "But my memories of him are good. It doesn't matter that I know he changed how I thought. He told me he was my friend, and so he was."

Twin flames of anger and horror burst to life behind Beau's ribs. She knew, of course, that mind control was more than making someone do what they want. But her blood ran cold to imagine the power Obann might have had to convince Yasha that the things he made her could have been her idea. That she enjoyed them.

She swallowed hard to dislodge the revulsion of it. "Well it's still bullshit," she said. "What would you say if it had been one of us? If the Traveller had turned out to be pure evil and it was Jester feeling guilty for part of her still feeling attached after we killed him?"

For a moment, she worried she'd hit a nerve too hard. Yasha's expression wavered as she thought it through. "I would never hold that against Jester or any of you," she said finally. Her voice trembled. "But he wanted me to love him so that if I ever killed him, I would suffer as though it had been one of you."

Oh. Fuck. "Yash..." Beau's mind struggled to wrap around the depths of the hooks he had dragged into her.

"And then it nearly was one of you," she whispered. "It was nearly you." To Beau's horror, tears gathered in Yasha's eyes.

Beau closed the distance between them to kneel in front of Yasha as the first tear streaked down her cheek. She ached to hug her, and it tore her apart to know that the awful metal between them would render it all but useless. She settled for taking the hand in Yasha's lap in both of hers. "He's haunting you," she said.

Yasha sniffed hard. "I keep letting him." Her voice was low, her eyes trained on the stone floor behind Beau. "I'm too weak to stop it."

Beau stood and placed one hand over Yasha's where it touched her shoulder and the other on Yasha's cheek. Without giving herself too much time to overthink it, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Yasha's forehead. Yasha hesitated, but the she looked up to Beau and leaned in just slightly to her palm.

"You know it's okay to be weak sometimes, right?" Beau said.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you've been carrying around this thing that reminds you of something awful and it's because you don't know how to put it down. _He made you_ want to keep it, and that is super fucked up." Yasha nodded miserably. Beau swiped her thumb gently beneath Yasha's eye. "I'm saying you don't have to do it alone and it's okay, Yash, that you need help to undo some truly fucked up magic shit."

"I shouldn't want to keep it, though." Yasha's voice was thick with shame. "I hated him. He controlled me, took away years of my life, made me a monster, and I can't even get rid of this thing that reminds me of that every day because he told me to mourn him."

"Yash, look at me." She did. "Obann had no idea what friendship looks like," Beau said. "He never could have. He signed you up to mourn something he can't understand, and he vastly fucking underestimated how much help you would get from us - of our own free will." She gave that a moment to sink in. "We came for you because you're one of ours. Because we love you. Nobody told us to or put the idea in our heads." She smiled at Yasha, just a little. "I want to help you leave this thing in a ditch. Do you really think that dead fucker has a shot in hell of stopping me?"

Yasha closed her eyes. "No," she said firmly. "He couldn't."

"Fucking right."

Yasha sighed. "I don't want it, but I can't imagine not having the option ever again."

"So stop thinking about it like that." Yasha's eyes opened, her head tilting a little in question. "Let me help you take it off," Beau said, "and then we'll store it here at the Chateau for the week. We're gonna be running errands and fucking around. It'll be perfect to test and if you feel like you need it, we can come right back here and get it."

She watched Yasha digest this. "You would let me?"

"I get the feeling this isn't the kind of thing we come at with blunt force," Beau said gently. "I'd ditch it in a volcano in a heartbeat if I didn't think it would really hurt you. Doesn't matter why it would. If you need it, we will come back and get it." She smiled encouragingly and brushed a thumb over Yasha's cheekbone.

Yasha took a deep breath. "I never thought of breaking it down that way," she said. Then, almost to herself: "I could do a week, yeah." She focused on Beau again. "Will you…help me?"

Beau's chest felt warm. "Of course."

Yasha briefly grasped Beau's hand where it lay over hers and the leather strap beneath, and then she let it drop and sat quietly as Beau coaxed the fastenings apart one by one. She smiled at Beau's swearing and gave her a hand when she tried lifting it up and over her head, but finally it was off and it lay inconspicuously on the bench next to them. It looked somehow to Beau like an empty shell, tusks grasping and finding nothing.

Yasha was looking at it too, and her shoulders pulled in on themselves just a little. "I feel so light without it," she murmured. "Exposed and…a little lost. Caleb had a point about the comfort of knowing your role."

"Roles don't mean shit unless you choose to take them," Beau said bluntly. "You can be made to do something, but that's not the same thing." She glanced back at the breastplate. "I don't know what your role is, but I know it's got nothing to do with that thing or Obann."

Slowly, the muscles in Yasha's shoulders eased. "That's probably true."

Beau grinned. "Course it is. I'm brilliant."

The tension broke. Yasha looked up at Beau and smiled. "That's definitely true."

An unexpected blush crept up her neck and she cleared her throat quickly. "So do you need any help with the other stuff you're wearing?"

Yasha blinked. "No, I've got the rest of it, it was just the…oh." Her eyes widened. "You were…"

"I was deflecting," Beau assured her quickly. "Fuck. Sorry. I was making a joke to change the subject. Not that I wouldn't love to, but." Fuck fuck fuck fuck. She inhaled slowly. "You weren't meant to take that the way I usually mean it," she finished awkwardly.

Fuck, she'd made it weird. Five minutes of real vulnerability with Yasha and she'd done just fine, and then her mouth had run off without her.

"Can I?" Yasha asked quietly.

Beau stared at Yasha, startled. "What?"

Yasha's cheeks were an attractive state of pink, but her voice was earnest. "Can I take it the way you usually mean?"

Beau's heart started again with the feeling it had fallen down a flight of steps. "Course you can." she managed. "Just. Do you want that? I thought that was…something you didn't take seriously."

"I take you very seriously," Yasha said. Beau shivered just a little. Yasha took a deep breath. "As for whether I want that, I just…what you said about big things not needing to happen all at once. The breastplate hasn't been the only big thing on my mind." Beau was afraid that if she moved, Yasha would stop talking and retreat.

"Am I the other thing?" she whispered.

Yasha nodded. "It wasn't something I could consider, before. But these last few days, since the dream I had…things seem more possible now. Letting go of the breastplate, yes, but also you. You seem more possible." Beau didn't know how to reply. She couldn't even think of anything to say to deflect. Yasha continued. "The thought of you, of us…that's a big thing. But maybe I could get there a little at a time, if you would help me."

She met Beau's eyes, and the hope and hesitance in them finally unfroze Beau. Her heart was still going crazy as she sat carefully next to Yasha on the bench, leaving enough space for Yasha to have if she wanted it. "Of course I'll help you," she said. "Is this really something you want?" _Am I really something you want?_

Yasha said nothing, but reached to touch her fingertips to the shaved texture of Beau's undercut just above her ear. She stroked once, hesitantly. Beau closed her eyes halfway and leaned in just a little. "I have wanted to do that for a very long time," Yasha said quietly. "I was just afraid it might be a promise to you that I couldn't keep." She turned her hand so that her nails lightly scratched the back of Beau's head, and a soft moan fell out before Beau could stop it. Gods, she could stay in this moment forever. But there was an important conversation happening and her brain had gone fuzzy.

Beau reached up and stilled Yasha's hand, interlacing their fingers and bringing them down to rest on her thigh. "I just need to be able to think again for a second," she assured.

Yasha smiled, relieved. "Sorry."

"No don't be. I just wanted to be able to tell you with a clear head that this is kind of new for me too."

"What is?"

"Like…big plans. Long term stuff. Not knowing what to expect and feeling like I want to keep what I have even though it's not enough because the alternative is fucking it up entirely."

Yasha nodded. "And dealing with the fact that anything is possible and sometimes that feels the same as nothing."

"Yeah," Beau said quietly. "I guess I'm asking if you'll help me too."

Yasha reached out and touched Beau's cheek. "Of course. I feel a little better knowing you're finding your way too."

Beau smiled. "We can do it together or whatever."

Yasha chuckled softly. "That sounds nice." A silence stretched between them, not unpleasant but crackling with anticipation.

Beau wasn't sure what to do next. After a few seconds of deliberating, she defaulted.

"I gotta say," she said, stretching luxuriously, "this has been kind of an involved conversation to have when I'm the only one with my tits out." It was the right thing to say. The soft tension broke, and Yasha glanced down at said tits with something that came very close to a smirk.

"I didn't want to steal your thunder," she said.

Beau scoffed indignantly. "Like you could! I'm _made_ of thunder. I've got thunder for daaaaays. Go on and try."

Yasha shrugged like "if you insist" and pulled her tight black undershirt over her head with a practiced movement. She sighed contentedly and laid the fabric to the side as Beau swallowed. "Yeah they're pretty good I guess," she said breezily - or as breezily as was possible with a voice crack on "good." She busied herself with pulling the few pins out of her bun and unwinding the ribbon so that her hair fell down to her shoulders in a stiff wave. She ran her fingers through it a few times to loosen it and caught Yasha watching her with unguarded interest.

"I've never seen your hair down before."

Beau frowned. "Really?" It was true that she didn't make a habit of it, but she'd not really given much thought to the fact that yeah, she really _was_ usually alone when she fixed it.

"It's really pretty, Beau. Would you mind if I touch it?"

Gods, _please_. "Let's get to the tub and you can touch it all you want," Beau promised, because even just the thought of Yasha's fingers in her hair was shorting her fine motor skills and she knew if she gave in now, she'd never make it to the hot water waiting for them.

"I'll hold you to that."

They finished undressing in companionable silence, and Yasha wrapped her towel around her waist. "Ready?"

Beau grinned and threw hers over her shoulder even as her heart leapt. "After you."

At the door, she turned for just a moment and took in the empty breastplate and its groping, aimless tusks. Yasha might not be through with it yet - only time would tell. But the process had begun, and that in itself was more than a victory. Beau flipped off the breastplate and the dead guy who'd given it and hurried through the door after Yasha and the promise of change.

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah. I don't think it's the kind of trauma one gets over in one fell swoop. You break the chain, yes, but there's a process to learning how to navigate freedom.
> 
> Fic title from "Minimum" by Charlie Cunningham
> 
> Apologies for any unintended wingbaiting.


End file.
